1 Hoistingmachinery–Rigging 2 Theaters–Stage-settingandscenery–Safetymeasures I Sapsis,Bill,editor
TA660C3E582015
790028′4–dc23
ISBN:978-0-415-70274-4(pbk)
ISBN:978-0-203-79541-5(ebk)
TypesetinMinion
ByKeystroke,StationRoad,Codsall,Wolverhampton
2014018242
CARLAD.RICHTERS
ROCKYPAULSON
Rocky Paulson started rigging in 1969 at the Cow Palace in San Francisco In 1973 he became a member of IATSE. That same year he went to work for NBC as a rigger for the Disney on Parade shows, as well as working as a production rigger on NBC’s production of Peter Pan. After traveling on several continents with these shows, Rocky did many rock tours In 1977 he formed the first entertainment rigging production company. Since that time Stage Rigging has maintained its position as one of the most respected rigging companies in the US. At the end of 2005, Rocky retired from Stage Rigging, but has continued teaching activities
BILLGORLIN
BillGorlinservesasMcLarenEngineeringGroup’svice-presidentoftheEntertainmentDivision.Agraduate of Cornell University in engineering, he is registered as a professional engineer in ten states and is a boardcertified structural engineer His more than 27 years of experience include engineering of scenic, entertainment, and amusement structures, staging, rigging, buildings, show action equipment, architectural theming,sculptures,andotherframeworks,nationwideandworldwide
Bill is a member of the PLASA NA Rigging Working Group, the Performer Flying and Temporary Structures Task Groups; American Society of Civil Engineers; Cornell Society of Engineers; and Structural Engineers Association of New York He has published articles in ArchitectureWeek and Structural Engineering Forum,andisafrequentlectureratvariousuniversitiesandindustryconventions.
TRAYALLEN
TrayAllenbecameinvolvedwiththeatrewhileattendingDavidLipscombUniversityinNashville,Tennessee His first lighting truss hang was at this university and involved 20′ of truss and two crank-up lifts After graduating with a BSc in Engineering Science he worked for Bradfield Stage Lighting in Nashville, then as a master electrician for Opryland USA After getting married, Tray moved to Knoxville, Tennessee, and, in 1992,wenttoworkforJamesThomasEngineering
ROYBICKEL
Roy Bickel’s career started more than 50 years ago as a circus performer whose skills included trapeze, trampoline,andhumancannonball Hestartedriggingwiththecircusandthenmovedontobecomethefirst rigger for Disney on Parade He was also the first large arena tour rigger in the USA and was the first to introduce fixed length wire rope slings and sling color-coding. Roy also worked on a number of Broadway showincludingChicago,TheWiz,andTruckloads Royintroducedtotheindustrymanyofthepracticesstillin use by riggers today After 50 years in the industry, Roy is still rigging for conventions, corporate events, and
KEITHBOHN
Keith Bohn has been in the entertainment industry for more than 25 years During this time he has been involved in the use, manufacturing, and design of structural rigging solutions ranging from simple truss to complex, permanently installed structures Keith has also served the industry through PLASA as a principle votingmemberfortheRiggingWorkingGroupsince1998,andhaschairedthetaskgroupassignedtocreate and revise ANSI E1.21-2013, Temporary Structures Used for Technical Production of Outdoor Entertainment Events A founding contributor of the Event Safety Alliance, he has contributed on a number of topics contained in TheEventSafetyGuide Additionally, he has taught classes on the safe use of truss and outdoorstructuresworldwide.
KARENBUTLER
Karen Butler lives in Phoenix, Arizona, and has been working in the entertainment industry since 1983 She has had the opportunity to work in all facets and departments for music, dance, movies, commercials, industrials, trade shows, and her first love theatre. In 1986, Karen became a proud member of IATSE Local 336 In 1990 she created Suddenly Scenic and has worked as a scenic artist for 25 years She is the masterscenicforPhoenixTheaterandChildsplayInc
In 1996, Karen became part of the team to reopen the Orpheum Theater in Phoenix as the house steward and head flyman. It was during this period that Karen became part of the ETCP Theatrical Rigging committee;firstasanSME,thenaschair
STUCOX
StuCoxhastraveledtheplanetasaZFXflyingdirector,riggingandchoreographingperformerflyingeffects, alongwithaerialists,oversizedinflatablescenery,500′motorizedziplines,andnoshortageofflyingmonkeys, ghosts, angels, and Peter Pans He received a BFA in Theatre Design and Production from the University of Louisville He has worked with Wicked, the Vancouver Winter Olympics, Green Day’s American Idiot, Fox Sports, and FIFA. Stu is an ETCP theatre and arena rigger, and is an ETCP recognized trainer. He is a member of USITT, CITT, and PLASA In his downtime, Stu snowboards and spends time with his family inOntario,Canada
JOEMCGEOUGH
Joe McGeough is director of operations for Foy Inventerprises, Inc., based in Las Vegas. Over the years, Joe has worked on the development of new flying systems for productions worldwide, and has collaborated on hundredsofproductionsforFoy,includingshowsonBroadway(AmericanIdiot,TheLionKing,MaryPoppins, Tarzan the Musical), concert tours (The Backstreet Boys’ Into the Millennium World Tour), television (The Drew Carey Show, The Grammy Awards, The American Music Awards), international productions (Wicked in Tokyo), seasonal shows (TheFlyingAngels at the Crystal Cathedral and Phoenix First Assembly of God, The RadioCityMusicHallChristmasSpectacular,TheShojiTabuchiShow in Branson, MO), theme parks (Finding Nemo at Disney’s Animal Kingdom), industrials (The Microsoft Global Summit), special events (Olympic Torch
Scott Fisher is the founder of Fisher Technical Services and a pioneer in the development of theatrical and rigging automation systems. A 25-year veteran of the entertainment industry, Scott and the Fisher Technical team have provided cutting-edge automation systems to hundreds of theaters, theme parks, motion pictures, andattractions,andthesystemsandtechniquesdevelopedatFisherTechnicalcontinuetobeusedthroughout theentertainmentworldtoday.
DANCULHANE
Dan Culhane is currently the technical business development manager at SECOA Inc Prior to this he spent more than 11 years as SECOA’s engineering manager He is an ETCP-certified rigger for theater and a subject matter expert. Dan has spent 15 years as a technical director working for theatres across the country includingtheGuthrieTheaterandtheChildren’sTheatreCompany,inMinneapolis,MN
He serves on the PLASA Technical Standards Program, Rigging Working Group and chairs the task group revising the standard for fire safety curtains He is a member of the Stage Lift Working Group Dan also is on the board of directors for USITT and serves as treasurer. He is a member of the UL Standards Technical Panel for Fire Doors (STP 10), and serves as an alternate committee member to the NFPA TechnicalCommitteeonFireDoorsandWindows
EDDIERAYMOND
Eddie Raymond is a lifelong San Francisco Bay Area resident, graduating from and attending postgraduate work in education at UC Berkeley He has been a stagehand with Local 16 of the IATSE since 1975 After graduating the Apprentice Program at Local 16, Eddie became involved as a member of the examining board in1981andservedasthechairofthatcommitteefrom1984untilFebruaryof2014.Since1981hehasbeena leader in the progressive improvement of stagehand training in Local 16 as well as in the International Alliance Currently he serves the IATSE as a member of their Career Advancement Program, providing trainingandadvisingtheIA’sExhibitionandEntertainmentJointTrainingTrust.
Eddie was a co-chair of PLASA’s ETCP rigging certification program and sits as a member of the ETCP Council. He is the second term chair of PLASA’s North American Regional Board and sits on PLASA’s governingbody
CHRISHIGGS
Chris Higgs provided rigging for theatre, corporates, television, and concert touring from the early 1970s to themid-1990sandisoneofthefoundersofentertainmentriggingtrainingintheUK.TotalTrainingstarted in1998,aspartoftheTotalSolutionsGroup,anddeliverstrainingcoursesintheUKandoverseasinrigging, work at height, rescue, and inspection, amongst other associated subjects The Total Training three-day riggingcourseisuniqueintheworld,beingheldatleastthreetimesmonthlythroughouttheyear.
BILLSAPSIS
BillSapsis,presidentofSapsisRigging,Inc.,hasbeeninvolvedintheentertainmentindustrysince1972.His work on Broadway includes the original productions of AChorusLine and TheRunnerStumbles In 1981, Bill began Sapsis Rigging and has grown the company into a multifaceted installation/ production/service company.
Bill has written and lectured on safety related issues on an international basis. Bill is a member of the ETCP council and chair of the Rigging Subject Matter Experts He serves on PLASA’s Technical Standards Committee and is the chair of the Rigging Working Group Bill is a member of the ESTA Foundation’s boardofdirectors.
Bill is a USITT fellow He is a founding member of the Long Reach Long Riders, an industry-based charity motorcycle group, and he was the 2010 recipient of the Eva Swan Award, PLASA NA’s highest honor
CARLAD RICHTERS
Carla Richters is a 30-year member of IATSE TWU local 805 She was a road wardrobe supervisor and received her MFA from the University of Texas at Austin in Theatrical Production Design. She was the costumeshopmanagerandTheatreDepartmentsafetyofficeratDartmouthCollegefor24years Shewasan EMT at Upper Valley Ambulance in Fairlee, Vermont from 1995 to 2010, and a paramedic from 2001 to 2010. An ambulance squad training officer, she was the medical director of the Vermont Special Olympics Winter Games She was twice awarded the Jack Seusse Memorial Stump the Rigger trophy Her interest in riggingsafetyhappenedbecause,assheputsit,“theyhangheavystuffoverourheads Iwantedtoknowwhat theyweredoingandhowtohelpwhenthingswentwrong.”
FOREWORDBYMONONAROSSOL
Monona Rossol was born into a theatrical family and began working as a professional entertainer at three years of age. She holds a BS in Chemistry with a Math minor, and MS and MFA degrees in Art. Currently, sheisanindustrialhygienist,chemist,andthepresidentandfounderofArts,Crafts&TheaterSafety,Inc.,a nonprofitorganizationprovidinghealthandsafetyservicestothearts ShealsoisthesafetyofficerforIATSE LocalUSA829andfortheNewYorkProductionLocals.
There have been several good basic rigging texts published. But Entertainment Rigging for the 21st Century addressesbasicinformationpluswhatishappeningrightnowinthisfield Andalotishappeningrightnow
For example, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration finally recognizes that theatre and arena riggingareeverybitascomplexandpotentiallylife-threateningasriggingonmajorconstructionsites Today, OSHA applies the same Construction and General Industry rules to entertainment workplaces. And if there is some new rigging equipment or process for which there is no written OSHA regulation, OSHA can cite themanywayundertheirGeneralDutyClause
The General Duty Clause allows OSHA to cite or fine an employer for failure to address any “recognized hazard” Well, hitting the deck at a rapid rate of speed, clearly, is a recognized hazard So the producers of Spider-Man were cited under this clause (29 CFR 19105(a)(1)) when mistakes made in flying some of the variousactorsplayingbitsoftheSpider-Manroleledtoaccidents.
Today even the general public is aware of rigging perils when the press covers entertainment and theatrical accidents In 2013, two rigging accidents resulted in fatalities from falls in the range of 100′ above the stage OnApril5,ariggerfellafteraRomeoSantosperformanceattheAT&TarenainSanAntonio,Texas Then onJune29,aLasVegasCirqueduSoleilacrobatinharnessfelltoherdeathinfullviewofanaudience.
Chapter 13 by Bill Sapsis on fall arrest systems will make clear how riggers should be protected by fall protection gear in order to prevent tragedies. Keith Bohn’s Chapter 5 on outdoor structures should help readers understand what is needed to avoid accidents such as the 2011 Indiana State Fair stage collapse that killed seven and injured 58 people Chapter3 by Tray Allen on lighting trusses explains how these should be used and should remind us all of the many spectacular photos and videos of arena lighting truss collapses on theInternetwherewecanwatchmillionsofdollarsindamagesoccurringbeforeoureyes
While the general public certainly can understand the results of rigging accidents, they are not as likely to understand the technical causes It is also likely they wouldn’t even understand the language used by rigging experts to explain the issues involved. One reason is that riggers have their own language. This language is a collectionoftermsranginginoriginovercenturiesoftime.
The roots of rigger-speak are found in the colorful words used by the very first riggers who were the crews on ancient sailing ships. More terminology was added to describe developments in rigging gear developed during the Industrial Revolution And the final confusion arises from the geek-generated language applicable tocomplexcomputer-drivenriggingsystems
And when this language is used in EntertainmentRiggingforthe21stCentury, each author makes sure that thedefinitionsarecleartousall
Today’s riggers not only need to understand this strange language, they also need to provide proof to employers that they understand and rig competently In other words, many employers today want to see evidencethattheriggers theyhirehavehadsomeformaltraining.Thesimplerésuméofpast jobsmaynot be enoughinthe21stcentury
Theatrical riggers used to learn their trade by the seat of their pants, working with older riggers who also learned by the seat of their pants Today, there are formal training programs, the most important of which is the certified training offered by the Entertainment Technicians Certification Program (ETCP) These programs,originatedbytheEntertainmentServicesTechnologyAssociationandrunnowbyPLASA,require their candidates to pass a rather tough test In other words, today’s riggers should have professional certificationsinadditiontoexperience
Employers like certification programs because it helps protect their liability after an accident The human toll and damages caused by major rigging accidents almost always result in lawsuits. If employers can show that they hired people with rigging credentials backed up by certifying agencies, they at least cannot be accusedofhavinghiredincompetentlabor
Entertainment Rigging for the 21st Century covers these kinds of training programs in Chapters 11 and 12, by Eddie Raymond and Chris Higgs They cover training resources and issues in both the USA and the UK
And the fact that there are two chapters, one for North America and the other for our pals across the pond, illustrates that today’s entertainment riggers are conforming to, and aware of, both local and international standards
Standards for various types of equipment and the development of protocols for use of the equipment are now being developed under the watchful eye of PLASA These standards will be referenced repeatedly by authorsofthevariouschaptersinEntertainmentRiggingforthe21stCentury.
Infact,PLASAitselfistheresultofamergerbetweenUKandUSAorganizations Andtheirstandardsare accredited here and in Europe. In North America, PLASA standards usually receive American National Standards Institute (ANSI) accreditation In Europe, PLASA works closely with the British Standards Institute in the UK and the European Committee for Electrotechnical Standardization (CENELEC)
PLASA is also a major contributor to the development of international standards through the International StandardsOrganization
terms, diagrams and drawings, and formulas. Even non-riggers like myself, can follow these chapters and learn Andtokeepourinterest,thebookispepperedwithpersonalobservationsandstoriesofactualincidents experiencedonthejobbythoseauthorswhoarealsoriggers.
Entertainment Rigging for the 21st Century is not just for riggers and rigger wannabes I personally think it also belongs in the library of theatrical safety professionals, regulatory personnel, theatre administrators, writers who address theatre and entertainment subjects, or anyone who wants to know what’s really going on intheatresandarenastomakeallthosewonderfulthingshappenonstageandabove
MononaRossol
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Jim took up his charcoal.
“Goose Girl,” said he, “it’s the oddest thing out. Araminta, Duchess of Dorset, had the habit of sticking her paw into her mouth. And I’ll take my davy her thoughts were of bread and jam.”
“Cream buns are so much nicer,” said Miss Perry, sighing gently.
“You have grown a perfect Sybarite since you came to London,” said Jim. “Nobody ever suspected the existence of cream buns at Slocum Magna.”
Suddenly, and without any sort of warning, something flashed through the mind of Jim Lascelles; and this by some occult means conferred the air and the look upon him that gets people into encyclopedias.
“Don’t move, Goose Girl,” said he. “Do you know who has painted that hair of yours?”
“I don’t think it has been painted,” said Miss Perry.
“That is all you know,” said Jim. “Your hair has been painted by the light of the morning.”
Jim Lascelles laid down his charcoal and took up the brush that on a day was to make him famous. He dipped it in bright yellow pigment; and although, as all the world knows, the hair of Araminta, Duchess of Dorset, is unmistakably auburn, Jim began by flinging a splotch of yellow upon the great canvas.
“Goose Girl,” said Jim, with an expression of joy that made him seem preposterously fine to look at, “I have sometimes felt that if it should ever be my luck to happen upon a great subject, I might turn out a painter.”
“Your mamma always said you would,” said Miss Perry.
“And your papa always said you would marry an earl,” said Jim Lascelles.
Quite suddenly the blue drawing-room vibrated with a note of triumph.
“Oh, Jim! I’ve almost forgotten to tell you about my lilac frock.”
“Have you a lilac frock?”
“You remember the mauve that Muffin had?” said Miss Perry, breathlessly.
“After my time,” said Jim Lascelles. “But I pity a mauve on the Ragamuffin.”
“Muffin’s mauve was perfect,” said Miss Perry. “And my lilac is nearly as nice as Muffin’s.”
“Put it on to-morrow,” said Jim. “I’ll inspect you in it, you great overgrown thing. Now, don’t move the Goose Piece, you silly. The light of the morning strikes it featly. Really I doubt whether this yellow be bright enough.”
“Jim,” said Miss Perry, “to-morrow I will show you my new hat.”
“Stick your paw in your mouth,” said Jim. “And don’t dare to take it out until you are told to. And keep the Goose Piece just where it is. Think of cream buns.”
“They are awfully nice,” said Miss Perry.
Jim Lascelles dabbed another fearsome splotch of yellow upon the great canvas.
“Monsieur Gillet would give his great French soul,” said Jim, softly, “for the hair of the foolish Goose Girl whose soul is composed of cream buns. Ye Gods!”
Why James Lascelles should have been guilty of that irrelevant exclamation I cannot say. Perhaps it was that the young fellow fancied that he heard the first faint distant crackle of the immortal laughter. Well, well! we are but mortal, and who but the gods have made us so?
CHAPTER XI
MISS PERRY IS THE SOUL OF DISCRETION
THE next morning at ten o’clock, when Jim Lascelles appeared for the second time in Hill Street, he was received in the blue drawingroom by the lilac frock and its wonderful canopy. Jim gave back a step before the picture that was presented.
“My aunt!” said he.
“The frock is a sweet,” said Miss Perry. “Isn’t it? Muffin’s——”
“Goose Girl,” said Jim, “you are marvelous.”
“I think the hat must flop a little too much,” said Miss Perry, “in places. It makes people turn round to stare at it.”
“Of course it does, you foolish person,” said Jim, with little guffaws of rapture. “It is an absolute aboriginal runcible hat. How did you come by it? It seems to me there are deep minds in this.”
“Lord Cheriton chose it,” said Miss Perry.
“My noble patron and employer. It does him infinite credit. That hat is an achievement.”
“Aunt Caroline doesn’t like it,” said Miss Perry. “Especially in church.”
“Aunt Caroline is a Visigoth,” said Jim. “Let us forget her. Sit there, you Goose, where you sat yesterday. And if you don’t move and don’t speak for an hour, you shall have a cream bun.”
It was bribery, of course, on the part of Jim Lascelles, but Miss Perry made instant preparation to earn the promised guerdon.
“You are so marvelous,” said Jim, “that poor painting chaps ought not to look at you. Oho! I begin to have light. I begin to see where that lilac arrangement and that incredible headpiece came from. By
the way, Goose Girl, is it possible that Araminta, Duchess of Dorset, is one of your grand relations?”
“She is my great-grandmamma,” said Miss Perry.
“She must be,” said Jim. “What has old Dame Nature been doing, I wonder? Copying former successes. And old Sir President History, R.A., famous painter of genre, repeating himself like one o’clock.”
Jim Lascelles began to sketch the incredible hat with great vigor and boldness.
“By all the gods of Monsieur Gillet,” said Jim, vaingloriously, “they will want a rail to guard it at the Luxembourg.”
Yet Jim was really a modest young fellow. Could it be that already a phial of the magic potion had been injected into the veins of that sane and amiable youth?
“Goose Girl,” said Jim, “it is quite clear to me that if the Duchess was your great-grandmamma, Thomas Gainsborough, R.A., was my old great-granddad. Now, don’t move the Goose Piece. She wear-eth a mar-vel-ous hat!” Jim’s charcoal was performing surprising antics.
“Chin Piece quite still. Wonderful natural angle. Can you keep good if you take your paw out of your mouth?”
“I will try to,” said Miss Perry, with perfect docility.
“We will risk it,” said Jim. “Keep saying to yourself, ‘Only thirty-five minutes more and I get a cream bun.’”
“Yes, Jim,” said Miss Perry, with a remarkable air of intelligence.
“Paws down,” said Jim. “Hold ’em thusly. Move not the Chin Piece, the Young Man said. No, and not the Whole of the White and Pink and Blue and Yellow Goose Piece neither.”
Perhaps it is not strictly accurate to state that Jim dropped into poetry as he continued the study of his subject. But certainly he indulged in a kind of language which assumed lyrical form.
“Paws down,” said Jim. “She approacheth her Mouth Piece upon pain of losing her Bun. Paw Pieces quite quiet. Move not the Chin Piece, the Young Man said.”
The blue eyes of Miss Perry were open to their limit. They seemed to devour the slow-ticking clock upon the chimney-piece. At last virtue was able to claim its reward.
“Cream bun, please,” drawled Miss Perry, in a manner that was really ludicrous.
“It can’t possibly be an hour yet,” said Jim.
“It is,” said Miss Perry, with great conviction. “It is honestly.”
“Very good,” said Jim. “Young Man taketh Goose Girl’s word of honor.” He produced a neat-looking white paper packet from his coat pocket. “Goose Girl presenteth Paw Piece,” said he, “to receive Diploma of Merit. A short interval for slight but well-deserved nourishment.”
Miss Perry lost no time in divesting the packet of its trappings. I don’t say positively that her satisfaction assumed an audible form when she beheld the seductive delicacy of its contents. But, at all events, she lost no time in taking a very large bite out of a bun of quite modest dimensions.
“Jim,” said she, “it is quite as nice as the ones that come from Buszard’s.”
“It is their own brother,” said Jim. “This comes from Buszard’s.”
“R-R-Really,” said Miss Perry, with a doubtful roll of the letter R. “But those that Gobo brings me are larger.”
“They grow more than one size at Buszard’s,” said Jim. “Gobo is a bit of a duke, I dare say.”
“He isa duke,” said Miss Perry.
“If I were a duke,” said Jim, “I should bring you the large size. But as I am only Jim Lascelles who lives at Balham with his old mother,
you will have to be content with the small ones.”
It may have been that Miss Perry was a little disappointed, because the small ones only meant a bite and a little one. But she contrived to conceal her disappointment very successfully. Although brought up in the country she had excellent breeding.
“Jim,” said Miss Perry, “where is Balham?”
“Quite a ducal question,” said Jim.
“Is it as far from London as London is from Slocum Magna?” said Miss Perry.
“I acquit you of arrière pensée,” said Jim. “Here is Lord Cheriton. You had better ask him where Balham is.”
That nobleman in resplendent morning attire entered with an air that was fatherly.
“Is it my privilege to make you known to one another?” said he, with an air of vast benevolence. “My ward, Miss Perry. Mr. Lascelles, the coming Gainsborough.”
“Oh, I’ve known Jim——” Miss Perry began blurting, when it is grievous to have to inform the gentle reader that Jim Lascelles dealt her a stealthy but absolutely unmistakable kick on the shin in quite the old Widdiford manner.
“Can you tell me where Balham is?” Miss Perry inquired of Lord Cheriton with really wonderful presence of mind. But there was a real honest tear in her eyes; and tears are known to be an excellent old-fashioned specific for the wits.
“Certainly I can,” said he, with courtly alacrity. “Balham is an outlying part of the vast metropolis. It is a most interesting place with many honorable associations.”
“Jim,” the luckless Miss Perry was beginning, but happily on this occasion Jim Lascelles had no need to do more than show her his boot, while Cheriton’s sense of hearing was by no means so acute as
it might have been; “Mr. Lascelles,” Miss Perry contrived to correct herself, “lives at Balham.”
“Then we are able,” said Cheriton, “to congratulate Mr. Lascelles and also to congratulate Balham. But tell me, Lascelles, why you live in an outlying part of the vast metropolis when the center calls you?”
“We live at Balham,” said Jim, “my mother and I, because it is cheap and respectable.”
“A satisfying combination,” said Cheriton. “I trust the presence of my ward, Miss Perry, does not retard the progress of your artistic labors?”
“Quite the contrary, I assure you,” said Jim, with excellent politeness.
“I am glad of that,” said Cheriton. “But as you may have already discovered, Miss Perry has quite the feeling for art.”
“Yes,” said Jim, perhaps conventionally, “I am sure she has.”
“It is a very remarkable case of heredity. You see, my dear Lascelles, Gainsborough painted her great-grandmamma.”
“So I understand,” said Jim, with great solemnity.
“It is a great pleasure to me, my dear Lascelles, that Miss Perry’s taste in art is so sure. We go to the National Gallery together, handin-hand as it were, to admire the great Velasquez.”
“He is a sweet,” said Miss Perry.
“And, my dear Lascelles, we profoundly admire the great Rembrandt also.”
“He is a sweet too,” said Miss Perry.
“And, my dear Lascelles, together we share—Miss Perry and I a slight distrust of the permanent merit of Joseph Wright of Derby. The fact is, Joseph Wright of Derby somehow fails to inspire our confidence. One can understand Joseph Wright of Sheffield perfectly well; or even perhaps—mind, I do not say positively Joseph Wright
of Nottingham; but I put it to you, Lascelles, can one accept Joseph Wright of Derby as belonging to all time?”
“I agree with you,” said Jim. “Yet was there not once an immortal born at Burton-on-Trent?”
“I never heard that there was,” said Cheriton, with an air of pained surprise. “And that is a matter upon which I am hardly open to conviction. By the way, Lascelles, which of England’s luscious pastures had the glory of giving birth to your genius?”
As a preliminary measure Jim Lascelles showed Miss Perry his boot.
“I was born,” said Jim, modestly, yet observing that the blue eyes of Miss Perry were adequately fixed on his boot, “at a little place called Widdiford, in the north of Devon.”
“Yes, of course,” said Cheriton, graciously; “I ought to have remembered, as your father and I were at school together. I remember distinctly that it was the opinion of the fourth form common room that the finest clotted cream and the finest strawberry jam in the world came from Widdiford.”
“It is almost as nice at Slocum Magna,” said Miss Perry, in spite of the covert threat that was still lurking in Jim’s outstretched boot.
“Quite so,” said Cheriton. “Ha, happy halcyon days of youth, when the cream was really clotted and the strawberries were really ripe! But I seem to remember that Widdiford is remarkable for something else.”
Miss Perry was prepared to enlighten Lord Cheriton, but Jim’s boot rose ferociously.
“Stick paw in Mouth Piece,” Jim whispered truculently, “and merely think of cream buns.”
“Widdiford,” said Cheriton, “let me see. In what connection have I heard that charmingly poetic name? Ah, to be sure, I remember— Widdiford is the place at which they have not quite got the railway, don’t you know. Miss Araminta, is not that the case?”
“Yes,” said Miss Perry; “but it is only three miles away.”
“And what is the proximity,” said Cheriton, a little dubiously it is to be feared, “of Widdiford to Slocum Magna?”
“The best part of two miles,” said Jim Lascelles, boldly taking the bull by the horns. “Quite a coincidence, isn’t it, that we should have lived at the Red House at Widdiford, and that Miss Perry’s papa should have lived at the Parsonage, at Slocum Magna? In fact, I seem to remember Miss Perry or one of her sisters as quite a tot of a girl sitting as good as pie in the vicarage pew.”
It was here that Jim’s boot did wonders. Miss Perry was simply besieged by voices from the upper atmosphere beseeching her to give the whole thing away completely. She refrained, however. Her respect for Jim’s boot enabled her to continue sitting as good as pie.
That being the case, let us offer this original piece of observation for what it is worth. Cream buns are remarkably efficient in some situations, while an uncompromising right boot is equally efficient in others. To Jim Lascelles belongs the credit of having assimilated early in life this excellent truth.
Cheriton turned to see what progress Jim Lascelles had made with his labors.
“Very good progress, Lascelles,” said he. Yet something appeared to trouble my lord. “Upon my word,” said he, “either my eyesight betrays me or the color of your girl’s hair is yellow.”
“Is it?” said Jim Lascelles, innocently. “Yes, so it is, as yellow as the light of the morning.”
“The duchess’s hair is auburn, unmistakably.”
“Why, yes,” said Jim; “but really, don’t you think yellow will be quite as successful?”
Cheriton gazed at Jim Lascelles in profound astonishment.
“My dear fellow,” said he, “I hope you understand what you are commissioned to do. You are commissioned to make a precise and
exact copy of Gainsborough’s Duchess of Dorset for Cheriton House, not to perpetrate a tour de force of your own. Upon my word, Lascelles, that hair is really too much. And the set of the hat, as far as one may judge at present, certainly differs from the original. I am sorry to say so, Lascelles, but really I think in the interests of all parties it would be well if you started again.”
Jim put his hands in his pockets. Upon his handsome countenance was a very whimsical if somewhat dubious expression.
“Lord Cheriton,” said he, solemnly, “the truth is, if I could have afforded to lose a cool hundred pounds, which I don’t mind saying is more than the whole of what I made last year, I should not have accepted this commission. As I have accepted it I shall do my best; and if the results are not satisfactory I shall not look for remuneration.”
“Well, Lascelles,” said his patron, “that is a straightforward proposition. I dare say it is this confounded French method of looking at things that has misled you so hopelessly. ’Pon my word, I never saw such hair, and Gillet never saw such hair either. It is enough to make Gainsborough turn in his grave. It is most providential that I happened to look in. Take a fresh piece of canvas and start again.”
Jim Lascelles laid his head to one side with a continuance of his whimsical and dubious air. There was no doubt that the yellow was extremely bold and that the hair of the duchess was auburn.
Yet what of the cause of the mischief? There she sat on the sofa in her favorite pose, blissfully unconscious of the trouble she had wrought, for there could be no doubt whatever that her thoughts were of cream buns. And further, it seemed to Jim Lascelles that there could be no doubt either that her hair had been painted by the light of the morning. Cheriton, however, was too much preoccupied with the duchess to observe that fact.
“My dear Miss Araminta,” said he, “as this is a really fine morning, and this is really the month of May, let us stroll into the park and
watch young England performing maritime feats on the Serpentine. And after luncheon, if the weather keeps fine, we will go to the circus.”
“What fun!” said Miss Perry.
CHAPTER XII
JIM LASCELLES TAKES A DECISIVE STEP
CAROLINE CREWKERNE’S “Wednesdays” had not been so thronged for many years past. They had been in their heyday twenty years earlier in the world’s history, when the spacious mansion in Hill Street was the fount of the most malicious gossip to be obtained in London. But the passing of the years had bereft Caroline of something of her vigor and of even more of her savoirfaire. She had grown difficult and rather out of date.
However, it had recently been decreed in the interests of human nature that Caroline Crewkerne should come into vogue again. People were to be seen at her “Wednesdays” who had not been seen there for years.
There was George Betterton for one. And the worldly wise, of course, were very quick to account for his presence, and to turn it to pleasure and profit. Cheriton and he were both popular men; and about the third week in May two to one against George and three to one against Cheriton were taken and offered.
“Cheriton is the prettier sparrer,” said students of form, “but Gobo, of course, has the weight.”
“I assure you, my dear,” said a decidedly influential section of the public, “the creature is a perfect simpleton. I assure you she couldn’t say ‘Bo!’ to a goose. It is inconceivable that two men as old as they are and in their position should make themselves so supremely ridiculous. And both of them old enough to be her father.”
“Caroline Crewkerne is behind it all,” said the philosophical. “Her hand has lost nothing of its cunning. Really it is odious to aid and abet them to make such an exhibition of themselves.”
It is regrettable, all the same, to have to state that the exhibition was enjoyed hugely. And when the MorningPostannounced that on a certain evening the Countess of Crewkerne would give a dance for Miss Perry, there was some little competition to receive a card.
Cards were liberally dispensed, but when they came to hand many persons of the quieter and less ostentatious sort found that a little fly had crept into the ointment. “Fancy dress” was to be seen written at the top in a style of caligraphy not unworthy of Miss Pinkerton’s academy for young ladies. Miss Burden had been commanded to do this at the eleventh hour.
“That man Cheriton is responsible for this,” complained those who desired neither the expense nor the inconvenience of habiting themselves in the garb of another age, “because he thinks he looks well in breeches.”
That may have been partly the reason; but in justice to Cheriton it is only right to state that, unless he had found a weightier pretext to advance, Caroline Crewkerne would never have assented to this somewhat eccentric condition. Indeed, it was only after a heated argument between them that Cheriton contrived to get his way.
“You must always be flamboyant and theatrical,” grunted Caroline, “at every opportunity. All the world knows you look well in breeches.”
“I protest, my dear Caroline,” said the mellifluous Cheriton; “it is merely my desire to put another plume in your helmet. The creature will look ravishing as Araminta, Duchess of Dorset. Pelissier shall come this afternoon to copy the picture dehautenbas.”
“It has been copied once already.”
“Ah, no! It supplied an idea or two merely. When you see it in every detail precisely as Gainsborough saw it, you will observe the difference.”
“People must be as sick of the picture as I am by this time.”
“Nonsense! They are only just beginning to realize that you’ve got a picture.”
Let it not be thought an injustice to Cheriton if one other motive is advanced for his insistence upon a somewhat singular course. When the cards of invitation had been duly issued he rather let the cat out of his bag.
“Of course, Caroline, you would be obstinate,” said he, “and have your own way about that fellow George Betterton, but you know as well as I do that in any kind of fancy clothes he looks like a boaconstrictor.”
At first Cheriton professed himself unable to decide whether he should appear as Charles II. or as John Wesley. In the end, however, he decided in favor of the former. Miss Burden had not been so excited for years. The subject filled her thoughts day and night for a whole week after the momentous decision was taken. She then submitted one day to his lordship at luncheon a peculiarly difficult problem.
“Not a problem at all,” said he. “Simplest thing in the world, my dear lady. There is only one possible person you can go as.”
“I had been thinking of Mary Queen of Scots,” said Miss Burden, hardly daring to hope that Lord Cheriton would give his sanction.
“Mary Queen of who!” snarled Caroline.
“No, my dear Miss Burden,” said the eminent authority, “the only possible person you can go as is Katharine of Aragon.”
“Nonsense, Cheriton!” said Caroline. “I shall not permit Burden to appear in any such character. A Jane Austen spinster will be far more appropriate and far less expensive.”
“My dear Caroline,” said Cheriton, “how it would help everybody if you did not insist on airing your views upon matters of art! Do you wish Miss Burden to forfeit entirely her natural distinction?”
Miss Burden blushed most becomingly at his lordship’s remark.
“I was not aware that she had any,” said the ruthless Caroline.
“Upon my word, Caroline, even I begin to despair of you. I assure you Miss Burden is quite one of the most distinguished-looking women of my acquaintance.”
Miss Burden looked almost as startled as a fawn. Cheriton had never seen her display so much color as when he made her a little bow to attest his bona fides. It was rather a pity that his smile unconsciously resembled that of a satyr; not, however, that it really mattered, for although the ever-observant Caroline duly noted it Miss Burden did not.
“It is twenty-five minutes past two, Lord Cheriton,” said Miss Perry, putting a sugar-plum in her mouth, “and you have promised to take me to the circus.”
“Cheriton,” said the old lady, “I forbid you to do anything of the kind. To spend three afternoons a week at a circus is outrageous.”
“They are so educational,” said Cheriton. “Develop the mind. Show how intelligence can be inculcated into the most unlikely things. Horses good at arithmetic, dogs playing whist, cats indulging in spiritualism. Very educational indeed. Clown imitating monkey in lifelike manner. Illustration of the origin of species. One more sugarplum, my dear Miss Araminta, and then Marchbanks will summon a taximeter, if possible, with a tonneau painted pink.”
“Gobo is going to take me to the Horse Show to-morrow,” Miss Perry announced.
“Who, pray, is Gobo?” Aunt Caroline and Lord Cheriton demanded in one breath.
“He asked me to call him Gobo,” said Miss Perry, helping herself calmly to sugar-plums, “and I asked him to call me Goose.”
Cheriton’s countenance was unmistakably a study. The same might be said of that of Aunt Caroline.
“My dear young lady,” said Cheriton, “this cannot be. One of the most dangerous men in London. Really, Caroline, you must forbid that old ruffian the house. As for the Horse Show to-morrow, it is clearly out of the question.”
“I promised Gobo,” said Miss Perry, “and I don’t like to break a promise; do you?”
“My dear young lady, you are much too young and inexperienced to make a promise, let alone to keep one. I speak as I feel sure your papa would do were he in my place, and as I know I should do were I in the place of your papa. Your aunt is quite of that opinion; I speak for her also. You must not call that man Gobo, he must not call you Goose, and as for the Horse Show, it is out of the question.”
“But everybody calls me Goose,” said Miss Perry, “because I am rathera silly.”
“Caroline,” said Cheriton, with much gravity, “if you will take the advice of your oldest friend you will forbid that man the house. My dear Miss Araminta, let us try to obliterate a very disagreeable impression by spending a quietly educational afternoon at the circus.”
When on the morning of the great day of the fancy ball Miss Perry entered the presence of Jim Lascelles as the faithful embodiment, down to the minutest particular, of Gainsborough’s masterpiece, that assiduous young fellow was seized with despair. It took the form of a gasp.
“Goose Girl,” said he, “I shall have to give up coming here. I paint you all the morning, I think of you all the afternoon and evening, and I dream of you all night. You know you have rather knocked a hole in my little world.”
“There will be ices to-night,” said Miss Perry. “Lord Cheriton almost thinks pink ices are nicest.”
“Confound Lord Cheriton,” said Jim, with unpardonable bluntness, “and confound pink ices!”
“I thought I would just put on my new frock,” said Miss Perry, “to see if you think it is as nice as you think the lilac is.”
“I have no thoughts at all this morning,” said Jim Lascelles, “about your new frock or about anything else. My mind is a chaos, my wretched brain goes round and round, and what do you suppose it is because of?”
“I don’t know,” said Miss Perry.
“It is because of you,” said Jim Lascelles. “Look at that canvas you’ve ruined. Yellow hair—Gainsborough hat—lilac frock—full-fledged cream-bun appearance. You will lose me my commission, which means a cool hundred pounds out of my pocket, and my mamma has denied herself common necessaries to pay for my education. Goose Girl,” Jim Lascelles concluded a little hoarsely, “I am growing afraid of you. You are a sorceress. Something tells me that you will be my ruin.”
“I wish you had seen Muffin’s mauve,” said Miss Perry, who showed very little concern for Jim’s ruin.
“I have not the least desire to see Muffin’s mauve,” said Jim Lascelles. “In fact, I thank the God who looks after poor painters—if there is such a Deity, which I take leave to doubt—that I have not seen it. But I intend to ask you this question: What right have you, Goose Girl, to grow so extravagantly perfect, to get yourself up in this ravishing and entrancing manner, and then to come to ask a poor wight of a painting chap, who is daubing away for dear bread and butter, whether he thinks your new frock is as nice as the lilac was?”
“Muffin’s mauve——” said Miss Perry.
“Answer me,” said Jim, sternly. “You can’t. You are a sorceress. You are a weaver of spells. Well, it so happens that I am susceptible to them. I am going to take a decisive step. Goose Girl, it is my intention to kiss you.”
Without further preface or ado Jim Lascelles stepped towards Miss Perry with extended arms and eyes of menace. He hugged her literally, new frock and all, in the open light of the morning; and further, he gave her one of the most resounding busses that was ever heard in that dignified apartment.
“Get rid of that if you are able,” said he, brazenly. “And now sit there, as good as pie, while I put that new gown upon canvas.”
Miss Perry did as she was told in a manner that rather implied that she approved decidedly of the whole proceedings.
“Goose Girl,” said Jim, attacking the canvas, “you will either make me or mar me. Sometimes I feel it might be the former, but more often I am convinced it will be the latter.”
“Muffin’s mauve cost a lot of money,” said Miss Perry.
“Paws down,” said Jim. “The question now for gods and men is, can that hair and that frock live together?”
Jim took up a little looking-glass and turned his back upon the canvas. He sighed with relief.
“Yes, they can by a miracle,” said he. “And yet they out-Gillet Gillet.”
“What will you be to-night, Jim?” asked Miss Perry.
“Achilles, sulking in my tent.”
“Where will you put your tent?” said Miss Perry. “One can’t dance in a tent. And what will you do when you are sulky?”
“Gnash my teeth and curse my luck.”
“I will dance with you twice if you would like me to,” said Miss Perry with charming friendliness.
“I shall not be there,” said Jim, whose studied unconcern was rather a failure.
“Not be there!” said Miss Perry, with consternation.
“Aunt Caroline has not axed me.”
It was some kind of solace to Jim Lascelles that dismay and incredulity contended upon the usually calm and unruffled countenance of Miss Perry.
“Miss Burden has forgotten you,” said she. “I must speak to her.”
Miss Perry rose for that purpose.
“Sit down, you Goose,” Jim commanded her. “Don’t speak a word about it to anybody, unless you want to get me sacked from the house. I am here on sufferance, a poor painting chap, copying a picture to get bread and cheese; and this ball to-night is being given by the Countess of Crewkerne, for her niece Miss Perry.”
“But, Jim——”
“Goose Girl,” said Jim, “keep Mouth Piece immovable. Move not the Chin Piece, the Young Man said. Think of cream buns.”
“But, Jim——” said Miss Perry.
CHAPTER XIII
HIGH REVEL IS HELD IN HILL STREET
ALL the same, Miss Perry did not dance twice with Jim Lascelles that evening. For Jim took his mother to the Theatre Royal, at Brixton, to witness a performance of that excellent old-world comedy, “She Stoops to Conquer.”
He did not appear to enjoy it much. He hardly laughed once, and his mother remarked it.
“What is the matter, my son?” said she. It ought to be stated that Jim’s mother was absurdly young to occupy the maternal relation to a great hulking fellow like Jim.
“There is a ridiculous girl in my head,” said he, “who is above me in station.”
“That Goose?” said Jim’s mother, a little contemptuously, it is to be feared.
“Yes, Señora,” said Jim. “She is turning my brain rather badly.”
Not unnaturally Jim’s mother was amused that Jim should be so serious.
“If only I had enough money to buy back the Red House at Widdiford,” sighed Jim, “I believe I could cut out them all.”
“She was never able to resist the orchard, and the south wall, and the strawberry beds,” Mrs. Lascelles agreed.
“I never saw such a creature,” said Jim. “Those lilac frocks and those Gainsborough hats are maddening.”
“Well, laddie,” said Jim’s mother, “you must paint her and make her and yourself famous.”
“She is famous already,” said Jim. “Worse luck. She is a nine days’ wonder in Mayfair, and certain to marry a duke.”
“That Goose!” said Jim’s mother.
“Yes,” said Jim; “it sounds ridiculous, but it is perfectly true.”
“Well, my son,” said Jim’s mother, who believed profoundly in her offspring, “just paint her and see what comes of it.”
While Jim Lascelles lay that night with his head on his arm, dreaming of the Goose Girl, high revel was held at the house of Caroline Crewkerne, in Hill Street, W. All ages and both sexes were gathered in the garb of their ancestors in the spacious suite of rooms on the second floor. From the moment that the first seductive strains were put forth by Herr Blaum’s Green Viennese Band, and his Excellency the Illyrian Ambassador, in the guise of Henri Quatre or the Duke of Buckingham—nobody was quite sure which— accompanied by Diana of Ephesus, a bread-and-butter miss who looked much too young to be a duchess, went up the carpetless blue drawing-room, which seemed at least three times the size it did on ordinary occasions, as indeed was the case, there was no doubt that Caroline Crewkerne was going to have a great success.
It is not easy to know whether Red Cross Knights, Cardinal Richelieus, Catherines de’ Medici, and those kinds of people are susceptible of thrills; but there was one unmistakably when George Betterton, in the character of a Gentleman of the Georgian Era, took the floor with Araminta, Duchess of Dorset, by Gainsborough, upon his arm.
The less responsible spirits directed their gaze to Charles II. The Merry Monarch was engaged in amiable converse with his hostess, who, habited in an Indian shawl, the gift of her Sovereign, and a jeweled turban presented to her by the Shah of Persia during his last visit to this country, together with the insignia of the Spotted Parrot duly displayed round her neck, made her, in the opinion of many, a very tolerable representation of a heathen deity. As a Gentleman of the Georgian Era and Araminta, Duchess of Dorset, by
Gainsborough, came down the room in a somewhat inharmonious manner, owing to the decidedly original ideas of the former in regard to the art he was practicing, the amiable and agreeably cultivated voice of Charles II. soared easily above the strains of the waltz and the frou-frou of the dancers.
“Yes,” said that monarch, “the Georgian Era is sufficiently obvious; but can anybody tell me what has happened to the Gentleman?”
The Georgian Era went its victorious way however, gobbling decidedly, perspiring freely, holding Gainsborough’s Duchess in a grip of iron, and slowly but surely trampling down all opposition with the greatest determination. When, with coxcomb ensanguined, but with a solemn gobble of triumph, he came back whence he started, a slight but well-defined murmur of applause was to be heard on every hand.
“Georgian Era wins in a canter,” one of the knowing fraternity could be heard to proclaim. “Evens on Gobo against the field.”
“Duchess,” said the Georgian Era, with a bow to his fair partner, who looked as cool as a cucumber, “you deserve an ice.”
“Yes,” said Araminta, Duchess of Dorset, with grave alacrity, “a pink one, please.”
“Bad form,” said the Second Charles; “decidedly a breach of manners to address her as duchess in the circumstances. But what can one expect of the Georgian Era!”
The Merry Monarch, with the unmistakable air of the master of the ceremonies, as indeed he was, proceeded to lead out Katharine of Aragon, who was seen to great advantage, such was her natural distinction, and who was that ill-fated queen to the manner born.
“Humph!” said the Heathen Deity. “For a born fool she dances very well.”
The Second Charles danced like a rather elderly angel with wings.
The young people also were enjoying themselves. Eligible young men, and not a single one of the other kind had gained admittance, had each his dance with the fair Araminta, or the fair Daphne, or the fair Evadne, or the fair Sweet Nell of Old Drury. Of course Gainsborough’s masterpiece really brooked no rival, except the great canvas in the left-hand corner, which, in the full glare of the electric lights, seemed to do her best to dispute the supremacy of her youthful descendant.
“Yellow hair knocks spots off the auburn,” said an Eldest Son to the Lynx-Eyed Dowager to whose apron he was very carefully tied.
“A matter of taste,” was the rejoinder. “Yellow is never a safe color. It is well known that it means doubtful antecedents. They are beginning the lancers. Go, Pet, and find Mary.”
Pet, who was six feet five, and had leave from Knightsbridge Barracks until five a.m., claimed the Watteau Shepherdess, a real little piece of Dresden China, who had forty-six thousand in land and thirty-six thousand in consols, and would have more when Uncle William permanently retired from the Cavalry; and who was perfectly willing to marry Pet or anyone else if her mamma only gave her permission to do so.
Charles II. sat out the supper dance with the fair Araminta.
“Miss Goose,” said the sagacious monarch, “never dance the dance before supper if you can possibly avoid it. You will live longer, you will be able to do ampler justice to whatever fare may be forthcoming, you will also be able to get in before the squash; and if the quails run short, as is sometimes the case, it won’t matter so much as it otherwise might do.”
As far as the Merry Monarch was concerned, however, the precautions against the squash and the possibility of the quails running short were wholly superfluous. The pleasantest corner of the best-situated table had been reserved for him hours before, and all his favorite delicacies had been duly earmarked.
“Miss Goose,” said the Merry Monarch, “have you had an ice yet?”
“I have had seven,” said Araminta, Duchess of Dorset.
“Pinkones?” asked the Second Charles.
“Five were pink,” said the Duchess, “one was yellow, and one was green. But I think that pinkones are almostthe nicest.”
“I concur,” said the Second Charles.
After supper, before dancing was resumed, some incautious person, after gazing upon Gainsborough’s masterpiece and subjecting it to some admiring if unlearned remarks, pulled aside the crimson curtain which hid from view Jim Lascelles’ half-finished copy.
“Oho!” said the incautious one in a loud voice, “what have we here? To be sure, a Sargent in the making! Only Sargent could paint that hair.”
The attention of others was attracted.
“I should say it is a Whistler,” said a second critic.
“A Sargent decidedly,” said a third. “Only he could paint that hair.”
“It is high art, I dare say,” said a fourth, “but isn’t it rather extravagant?”
“If Gillet were in London,” said critic the fifth, who had more instruction than all the others put together, “I should say it was Gillet. As he is not, it might be described as the work of a not unskillful disciple.”
Cheriton stood listening.
“It is the work of a young chap named Lascelles,” said he; “the coming man, I’m told.”
Nobody had told Cheriton that Jim Lascelles was the coming man, and not for a moment did he believe that he was; but he was a member of that useful and considerable body which derives a kind of factitious importance from the making of imposing statements. He felt that it reacted upon his own status to announce that a young
chap named Lascelles was the coming man when not a soul had heard of the young chap in question.
“I must remember the name,” said a broad-jowled marquis from Yorkshire, who had come up in time to hear Cheriton’s statement, and who greatly preferred to accept the judgment of others in the fine arts rather than exercise his own. “I should like him to paint Priscilla.”
“The very man to paint Priscilla,” said Cheriton, with conviction. And this, be it written to Cheriton’s credit, was genuine good nature.
“What is the subject?” said the first critic.
“Why, can’t you see?” said a chorus. “It is Caroline Crewkerne’s Gainsborough.”
“Which of ’em?”
“The yellow-haired one, of course.”
Cheriton screwed his glass in his eye. He had been the first to detect that the color of the hair was yellow, and yet for some strange reason the solution of the mystery had not until that moment presented itself to him.
“What damned impertinence!” said he.
“Anybody been treading on your corns, Cheriton?” asked several persons.
“Not exactly. But, do you know, I commissioned that fellow Lascelles to make a copy of Araminta, Duchess of Dorset, for Cheriton House.”
“And he copies the wrong Araminta!” came a shout of laughter. There was really no need to shout, but immediately after supper that is the sort of thing that happens sometimes. “A good judge too.”
“Gross impertinence. I think I shall be quite justified in repudiating the whole transaction.”
“Quite, Cheriton,” said the marquis, with a very obvious wink at the company and preparing to jest in the somewhat formidable Yorkshire
manner. “But it is easily explained. Young fellow got a little mixed between Gainsborough’s Araminta, Duchess of Dorset, and Nature’s Araminta, Duchess of Brancaster. Very natural mistake—what?”
The arrival upon the scene of the Georgian Era and the Heathen Deity, the latter walking quite nimbly with very little aid from her stick, set the circle of art critics in further uproar.
“Who pulled aside the curtain?” demanded the mistress of the house. “Cheriton, I suspect you.”
“It is my picture, anyhow,” said Cheriton, coolly, although he felt the game was rather going against him.
“It is not at all clear to my mind that it is your picture,” said the sharp-witted Caroline, to the delight of everybody. “You send a man to copy my Gainsborough, and he copies my niece.”
“A very natural error,” said the marquis, “as we have just explained to Cheriton.”
The Georgian Era was seen to grow uneasy. He began to fumble in his Georgian costume. Obviously he was not quite sure where the pockets were. At last, however, he was able to produce a pair of spectacles which he proceeded to adjust.
“Very good likeness,” said he, heavily. “Caroline, when the picture is finished I should like to purchase it for the Cheadle Collection.”
A salvo of laughter greeted this speech, but to laughter the speaker was constitutionally oblivious.
“The picture is not Caroline’s, my dear George,” said Cheriton. “The young fellow is painting it on my commission.”
“Excellent likeness,” said George, tenaciously. “I shall make you a fair offer, Cheriton, for the Cheadle Collection.”
“I am sorry, my dear George, for the sake of the Cheadle Collection,” said Cheriton, amiably; “but that picture is not for sale.”
“You are quite right, Cheriton,” said Caroline Crewkerne; “the picture is not for sale. I gave permission for a copy to be made of my Gainsborough, not of my niece.”
“It appears to be a question of copyright,” said a wit.
“I hold the copyright in both at present,” said Caroline, in an exceedingly grim manner.
The strains of the dance began to float through the room. The younger section of the company had again taken their partners; a brace of royalties had arrived, yet in spite of that jest and counterjest were in the air.
“Cheriton was never in it from the start,” said the marquis, “if you want my candid opinion.”
“The luckier he,” said the first critic. “What does any man want with a girl who hasn’t a sou, a country parson’s daughter?”
“Healthy, I should say,” said critic the second. “Comes of a good stock on the mother’s side.”
“Ye-es,” said a third. “Useful.”
“Finest-looking girl in England,” said a fourth.
“They can both afford to marry her,” said the marquis, “and I will lay the odds that the better man of the two does.”
“Cheriton gets her in that event.”
“Gobo for a monkey.”
All the time, however, in Another Place, the Master of the Revels— but, after all, that is no concern of ours.
CHAPTER XIV
UNGENTLEMANLIKE BEHAVIOR OF JIM LASCELLES
JIM LASCELLES continued his labors. He arrived at Hill Street each morning at ten, and worked with diligence until two p.m. Urged by the forces within him, and sustained by the injudicious counsel of his mother, he devoted his powers to the yellow hair, in spite of the fact that by the terms of his commission it was his duty to copy the auburn.
About three days after the dance he was interrupted one morning by Lord Cheriton. Jim was feeling rather depressed. For one thing his conscience smote him. He had deliberately risked the loss of a sum of money which he could not afford to lose; and further, it was most likely that he was about to offer an affront to his only patron. The more work he put into the picture, the more marked became the difference between it and the original. Again, and this perhaps was an equally solid reason for his depression, this morning the Goose Girl had forsaken him. She had gone for a ride in the park with her duke.
Doubtless Cheriton was sharing Jim’s depression. At least, when he entered the drawing-room to inspect the labors of his protégé, a countenance which, as a general rule, made a point of exhibiting a scrupulous amiability, was clouded over.
Cheriton’s scrutiny of Jim’s labors was long and particular.
“I invite you to be frank with me, Lascelles,” said he. “Is this a copy of the Dorset, or is it a portrait of a living person?”
By nature Jim was a simple and ingenuous fellow. But really his present predicament was so awkward that he did not know what
reply to make.
“Some of it is Gainsborough,” said Jim, lamely, “and some of it, I am afraid, is nature.”
“I am sorry to say, my dear Lascelles,” said Cheriton, judicially, “that I cannot accept that as an adequate answer to a straightforward question.”
“No, it is not a very good answer,” Jim agreed.
Suddenly his jaw dropped and he burst into a queer laugh.
“The fact is, Lord Cheriton,” said Jim, “I am in a hole.”
Cheriton regarded Jim in a highly critical manner.
“Yes, Lascelles,” said he, slowly. “I think you are.”
“A hole,” Jim repeated with additional emphasis, as if he desired to gain confidence from a frank statement of his trouble.
Jim’s odd face seemed to appeal for a little sympathy, but not a suggestion of it was forthcoming.
“What can a fellow do?” said Jim, desperately. “She will come and sit here on that sofa in a better light than the duchess. The sun of the morning will shine upon her; and when Nature comes to handle pink and white and blue and yellow she has a greater magic than ever Gainsborough had.”
Cheriton shook his head with magisterial solemnity.
“Lascelles,” said he, “you have a very weak case. And I feel bound to say that the manner in which you present it does not, in my opinion, make it stronger.”
“I expect not,” said Jim, ruefully. “But dash it all, what is a fellow to do if she will come and sit on that sofa and pose like Romney’s Emma?”
“His duty is absolutely clear to my mind, and I think it is simple. He should order the intruder out of the room.”
“Oh yes, I know,” said Jim, “that is what a really strong chap would do.” Jim gave a groan. “I know that is what a Velasquez or a Rembrandt would have done. And he would have cursed her like fury for sitting there at all.”
“Yes, I think so,” said the mellifluous Cheriton. “Rembrandt especially. In my opinion, Rembrandt would have shaken his fist at her.”
“That is the worst of being a mediocrity,” said Jim, gloomily. “It takes a chap with enormous character to do these things.”
“I am afraid, Lascelles, the plea of mediocrity will do nothing for you. If anything, it weakens your case. Personally, if I were advising you I should say either put in a plea of consummate genius or do not put in a plea at all.”
“I am not such a fool as to believe that I’m a genius,” said Jim, with excellent frankness.
“I am not such a fool as to believe you are either,” said Cheriton, with a frankness that was equally excellent. “And therefore, examining your conduct with all the leniency the circumstances will permit, I am unable to find any palliation for it. I fear my old friend Lady Crewkerne is much annoyed—forgive my plainness, Lascelles, but I feel it to be necessary—by your intrepidity in copying her niece instead of her Gainsborough; and I, as an old friend of the house, feel bound to share her disapproval.”
“Rub it in, Lord Cheriton,” said Jim.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and began to whistle softly with an air of supreme discomfiture.
“Yes, Lascelles, I intend to do so. In fact, I find it difficult to say all that I should like to do upon the subject, without actually saying more than one who was at school with your father would feel it desirable to say to a young man who has his own way to make in the world.”
